Trying to guess – are you? The PPs stand for them Perfectly Possessed When you do good – they frown When you are honest – they drown See those signs of jealousy in their eyes Right when you are supremely prized And when you stand at the tip of fame They cruelly deflect and try to defame No power at all in their intentions Yet they show another side of pretension Listen to their word not Ignore their pull of wrongful deceit Heed not their doings; unjust and unkind For before your very eyes see them unwind Into their cobwebs of hatred and misalign. Stay your lovable self and emit your wondrous shine Pray for them for their time is in terrible decline See all those red flags fall For your rise is nigh, Belonging right in front of them all!
To-night the west o’er-brims with warmest dyes; Its chalice overflows With pools of purple colouring the skies, Aflood with gold and rose; And some hot soul seems throbbing close to mine, As sinks the sun within that world of wine.
II.
I seem to hear a bar of music float And swoon into the west; My ear can scarcely catch the whispered note, But something in my breast Blends with that strain, till both accord in one, As cloud and colour blend at set of sun.
III.
And twilight comes with grey and restful eyes, As ashes follow flame. But O! I heard a voice from those rich skies Call tenderly my name; It was as if some priestly fingers stole In benedictions o’er my lonely soul.
IV.
I know not why, but all my being longed And leapt at that sweet call; My heart outreached its arms, all passion thronged And beat against Fate’s wall, Crying in utter homesickness to be Near to a heart that loves and leans to me.
This poem is in the public domain
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Of a life without love Embellished with nightmares hanging on the wings of a black dove Of horrendous, bold images full of disdain and cult Cries unfortunate shadowing unblissful nights of stench Bodies upon bodies of blood lost upon an alter Gutted and drenched.
Of a life filled with eternity What good is time if there is no joy Wrongful passion misconstrued on the rims of pain Innocence lost in the arms of guttural pleasures Death would be that heavenly key.
Spare us the lives of the newly born Another generation of newly dead!